Bittersweet_Sixteen@
by Luna Stop Swearing
Summary: An As Told By Ginger fic. Everyone's already 16, and things have changed. The question is, how drastically?
1. Default Chapter

@Bittersweet_Sixteen@  
  
By Mandelarae  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own As Told By Ginger. I just write stories involving her and her zany friends.  
  
A/N: I was outraged that there weren't that many ATBG fics of FF.Net. It's a great show, people! I usually write Gundam Wing fics (I have around 10 that are up), and I'm having difficulty with the saga that I'm writing, so I switched to Ginger. I hope that with enough fics, fanfiction.net will put up a page for ATBG only!  
  
Warning: Slight language. Kinda OOC, but keep in mind that they have matured already.  
  
Chapter 1: I Woke Up To THIS?!?  
  
Ginger Fautley blinked. Crust still graced her eyelids. She was quite certain that it was way before the time she planned to wake up.  
  
And whaddaya know, she was right.  
  
Dodie Bishop was practically eye-to-eye with her, Macie at her side.  
  
"GOD, Dodie! What time is it? And couldn't this have waited 'til morning?" Ginger groaned, sticking her head under her pillow and wrapping her thin blue rocket blanket tighter around her.  
  
"For your information, Ginger, it's 6:00 in the morning," Dodie replied in an all-too perky voice, Ginger noticed.  
  
Macie Lightfoot snorted, as she usually did since she couldn't breathe out of one nostril, and pulled back the curtains to reveal what night had uncovered.  
  
Ginger vigorously rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and blinked yet again. "SNOW?"  
  
Dodie nodded energetically. A little too energetically for 6 a.m., Ginger observed. She assumed that her best friend was increasing her Prozac intake.  
  
"WHY?"  
  
"Something to do with trade winds and fast moving currents and something similar to that," Macie, who'd been watching CNN's early weather report, answered.  
  
"Oh," Ginger yawned, getting up.  
  
"Ginger, we're 16 already. I think we can 86 the polka dot PJs," Dodie pointed out. She opened her bag onto Ginger's bed, and rummaged through it. Ginger's eyes widened as makeup wands, styling gel, tubes of lipstick, blush-on, lip gloss, and eye shadow emerged from the chic Prada backpack that Dodie had blew all her babysitting money and the next two months' allowance on.  
  
Scratching her back, Ginger stretched, and made a beeline for the bathroom, to take a rejuvenating shower, to brush her teeth, to comb her unruly mop of hair.  
  
"Ah!" Dodie exclaimed triumphantly, hoisting December's issue of Miss 6Teen magazine above her head. "I've got it, Ginger! Look!"  
  
Ginger sighed, and walked over to Dodie, her toothbrush still in her mouth.  
  
Dodie flipped to page 67, where girls with nonexistent waists, butts, and thighs were modelling the latest fad, designer pajamas.  
  
"They're all the rage," Dodie explained to her fashion-weary friend.  
  
"I'm sure Courteney Gripling has the entire set already," Macie muttered half-enviously, half-amazedly.  
  
"Designer PAJAMAS?" Ginger repeated. She shook her head and continued brushing her teeth. "Wha'll they think of nex'? D'signer handk'rchiefs?"  
  
"Ooh!" Dodie squealed. "That's on page 89!" She thumbed to said page to reveal same models in rather provocative poses carrying handkerchiefs.  
  
"LOOK, you guys, I'm gonna hit the shower right now, and I think I'd prefer it if you two waited in the kitchen," Ginger replied, rushing to the sink and spitting out the toothpaste and gargling.  
  
"FINE, Ginger!" Dodie snapped. "Macie and I will be discussing faux leather! Right, Macie?"  
  
Macie had dozed off. Ginger took one last peek and grinned. Ever since they had officially been labelled as 'teenagers,' and had officially hit puberty, stuff had changed.  
  
Drastically, she thought as she locked the bathroom door. 


	2. The Journal Called Revelations

Chapter 1: The Journal Called Revelations  
  
Disclaimer: Don't Own Anything.  
  
A/N: Hi. This chapter may shock you, especially if you are an avid watcher of ATBG. People with weak hearts and nervous disorders need only press the back arrow on their browser. Kidding. This is just to update you on everything that happened from the time they were in junior high until they became juniors in high school.  
  
From the Diary of Ginger Fautley, Volume 5  
  
Changes Ever Since We Became Juniors:  
  
Darren had had his headgear removed, back in junior high and he became the school's hottie understudy, the OFFICIAL hottie, of course, still being Ian Richton. OF COURSE. No one could beat IAN. Except Darren, of course, but that's just MY opinion. Being his best friend, I MAY be kinda biased.  
  
Miranda Killgallad was no longer Courteney Gripling's one-girl entourage; she had been replaced by, yes, yours truly. I, Ginger Fautley, am now Courteney Gripling's personal assistant. Why did they break up? Dodie says that she snuck into one of the cubicles in the freshman bathroom (the bathroom is co-ed) and overheard Miranda and Courteney arguing about Ian Richton.  
  
Go figure.  
  
On the downside, though, she was dating Darren. It's been two years now, as of yesterday. They came back together in freshman year, after a hiatus in junior high school. They needed each other too much. Ew, barf. Darren SAID she was nice, although she seems like a cold, unfeeling ice queen. Darren says that she's like a s'more, cold on the outside at first, but once you reached the chocolate part and started to melt it slowly over the fire, she'd be all melty and gooey.  
  
Excuse me while I hurl.  
  
I don't know what exactly he meant by that, but I decided I didn't want to delve into the little details of their relationship more.  
  
I remember my reaction when Darren first told me that they were going out.  
  
//Darren climbed into the bedroom window, his cheeks rosy with childish glee. An undaunted grin on his lips.  
  
I was sitting by the window, writing in my journal, when suddenly his head pops up from out of nowhere.  
  
"Whoa, junior, where's the fire?" I smirked.  
  
"Big news," Darren panted, jumping onto the rug and nearly passing out.  
  
"What? Spill!" I exclaimed exuberantly.  
  
"Me and Miranda Killgallad are officially an item," he announced proudly.  
  
My eyes rolled back into their sockets, and my head hit the floor.//  
  
I remember that Darren had to use CPR on me. Kinda sucks, you know. Your first kiss as a teenager and it has to be cardio-pulmonary resuscitation (how the HECK do you spell that?).  
  
Oh, dammit. Why is DARREN always popping up in my journal entries nowadays? He's become a fixture. And whenever I mention his name, I HAVE to mention Miranda. See, I'm doing it again.  
  
Am I JEALOUS of Miranda? HECK NO! She can keep Darren for all eternity, for all I care. I should be HAPPY for Darren. And I guess, Miranda too.  
  
But I'm not.  
  
Oh, fine, I DO admit that I am jealous of Miranda. I wonder if sparks will fly between her and Darren when they kiss. ALSO, I must say that Darren is such an experienced kisser. No doubt they've kissed before. Sucks to think of your number one crush aside from Ian Richton kissing your worst enemy who never passes up an opportunity to publicly humiliate you.  
  
It's insane.  
  
And did I mention that 'doing it' has gotten popular at school these days? I think that I'm the only virgin left in school. Yes, I, Ginger Fautley, do solemnly swear that I'm the only person in the entirety of Lucky High School that hasn't experienced the horizontal cha-cha. Maybe even Macie and Dodie have done it. I don't know anymore.  
  
After all, we're not exactly 'friends' anymore. We're merely 'acquaintances.' We just put up with each other because our moms would think we were on drugs or something if we didn't. We just hated each others guts, ever since we traded in our junior high status for a high school one.  
  
By the way, Courteney got pregnant. No, I'm not kidding.  
  
The father? I'm laughing my eyes out right now, just thinking about it.  
  
Will Patterson. Yes, THE Will Patterson, Darren's brother.  
  
Courteney's three months pregnant now, though she doesn't look it; But when she actually looks like a pregnant woman, she's going to stop school at LHS, and move with her family to Paris until the baby's born. That's pretty soon, meaning that I'll stop being a trying-hard yet high-on-the-social- platter assistant/sidekick and I'll be back to being a miserable loser in a few weeks' time.  
  
Will knows. His family knows. Courteney's does, too. I do too. But that's about it. The Pattersons were actually begging Courteney to just give them the baby when it's born, and they promised that they would take care of it, and she'd never have to lay eyes on it for the rest of her life.  
  
It's sad. Courteney said that she's going to give the baby up for adoption. She doesn't care, though. She thinks the baby will just cramp her outrageous partying lifestyle, and her mom's backing her 100%.  
  
Poor baby.  
  
I've studied the Constitution, like it or not, for Humanities and Civilizations class. And I know that every child has a right to a life.  
  
But Courteney's edging towards the offer of the Pattersons, as I've heard of late. But she'll be going to France, all the same.  
  
The world's gone senile and I'm the only sane one left. Even my friends have gone whack on me. I don't know them anymore.  
  
For example, Dodie had her belly button pierced since Courteney and Dawn Whitney, the new second popular girl in school, had theirs pierced. Then she got multiple babysitting jobs to buy designer clothing. Now she refuses to sport hand-me-downs from her sister Donna, and her wardrobe is full of Tommy Hilfiger, DKNY, Prada, and I think she has a Versace or two somewhere there.  
  
She confided to me that she had her allowance advanced for one year, and took cash from her college fund to buy makeup and accessories to go with her new look.  
  
I asked her, "How much?" And she told me, not really looking into my eyes, "Half of it." There was a long pause, then I said, "Doesn't that have 2000 dollars?" And she nodded.  
  
I kinda felt sorry for Dodie when she finally told her mom that. She was grounded for the entire summer AND school year, and she couldn't go outside except to her countless part-time jobs, waitressing at Ray's, doing odd jobs around town. Stuff like that.  
  
But Dodie doesn't feel sorry for anything she's done so far. I also quote her as saying, "I'd do it again in an eyeblink."  
  
Her favorite drama-queen quote? She'll sigh dramatically when saying this: "Ah, the price of being popular."  
  
She's SUCH a wannabe.  
  
Ginger's conscience: Like you're NOT? Hanging out with Courteney Gripling? Tagging along with her like a cute little puppy dog? You make me sick.  
  
Ginger: SHUT UP, conscience.  
  
Sigh.  
  
Macie? Okay, maybe she hasn't changed...a lot. She hasn't changed a lot.  
  
All that's changed is that well, Macie's obsessed with her grades. She needs to get straight A's. Anything lower than an A+ gets her depressed, then Dodie and I have to watch her Prozac intake. Once, when Macie got an A, she got herself wasted on Diet Pepsi mixed with Dr. Pepper.  
  
You ask, HOW EXACTLY can you get drunk on something that doesn't contain any alcohol whatsoever? When you drink at least 3 crates of the stuff straight, nonstop. It was two hours before Macie came out of the bathroom that day. I SWEAR she must have set the world record for longest peeing and barfing at the same time.  
  
She plans to go to Harvard someday.  
  
High school sucks. Whoever said that it was a time to make memories and treasure them and that shit should rot and burn in hell.  
  
Although, I assume that Darren wasn't REALLY practicing CPR. I know because when I opened my eyes, he had his closed. And his mouth was puckered up. Not CPR-ish, where your mouth is wide open. And he was holding my shoulders. Gently. Not the urgent, I-need-to-pump-your-stomach-so-I-can-get- air-into-you stranglehold. Gently.  
  
Yeah...spark city.  
  
And no, I haven't told anyone that.  
  
THAT, and the fact that I'm shaving my legs. I borrowed Carl's poodle- shaving razor. I tell you, it works WONDERS.  
  
Not that I'd tell Carl that I have it.  
  
Okay, okay, I stole it.  
  
Big deal.  
  
I doubt that he'd miss it. After all, he's got Hoodsey. And his secret doghouse laboratory. Plus, that sick, disgusting eyeball floating in pickle juice.  
  
Since we're on the subject of dirty little secrets, fine, I WILL admit that I convinced Darren to help me buy a pack of cigarettes. We're going to try smoking together.  
  
Try. NOT get addicted to.  
  
It's today. He promised me that.  
  
I doubt if he'll keep it, though, since, after all, he has MIRANDA to think of now. 


End file.
